


Improving Home Improvement

by stephanericher



Series: 31 Days of Horoscopes [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Foursome - M/M/M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:21:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: 1/15: A new sense of closeness to those around you might have you feeling especially happy today, Aquarius. Your business and financial life should be going very well, your future seems bright, and now this puts the icing on the cake. Your mind may turn to projects that you want to try in the future, and this could increase your enthusiasm. Even more ideas could come thick and fast.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this 31-day challenge is based on the wonderful [31-Day Horoscope Challenge by @icandrawamoth](http://archiveofourown.org/series/621022). Simply: read your horoscope for the day from horoscope.com (Aquarius for me); use it as a writing prompt.

At first there’s something nice about the four of them all crammed together, waking up in the early summer heat piled on top of each other on Taiga’s bed, Tatsuya’s phone alarm sounding from across the room because he’d gotten his plugged in last, the four of them all trying to move around at once. It’s cozy and it’s nice to have the assurance that all three of them are there, within a length of Taiga’s hand, if he ever wants or needs them.  
  
It wears off pretty quickly, though. Taiga had chosen this apartment for him, with the hopes of maybe adding Tatsuya someday, and that had worked out pretty well. But adding two other people, especially two people as large as Atsushi and Daiki, is really pushing things. There’s never space for any of them to be on their own, and it always ends up with Atsushi or Daiki (or both) going back to one of their apartments or Tatsuya holing up at work, and something’s got to give.  
  
They’re pretty early into the relationship, but for Taiga it’s absolutely worth it to try and find a solution, especially when he doesn’t have to look hard. In addition to his apartment, Atsushi owns a large two-story house in a semi-hip neighborhood, bought with his signing bonus. According to Tatsuya, the novelty of endless space of his own after a lifetime of sharing had worn off pretty quickly for Atsushi, and by January he was renting to some well-off college kids and living in the apartment he still rents but barely uses. When Taiga brings the house up, though, Atsushi wrinkles his nose.  
  
“Too much effort. It needs work.”  
  
That sounds vaguely ominous. Taiga’s never been to college, but he’s heard some of Tatsuya’s horror stories about frat parties and people throwing themselves out of second story windows or trying to take twenty-one shots on their twenty-first birthdays, holes in walls and windows blown out. But it’s probably not that bad, and it’s not like he (or Atsushi or Daiki) has anything to do all summer besides train. If there’s work they can do themselves, they can make the place their own.  
  
Atsushi shrugs at the suggestion. “I guess we can see it if you want to. The kids are gone.”  
  
“It’s vacation,” Daiki says, mostly into the couch cushion. “I don’t want to work.”  
  
“It won’t be so bad,” says Tatsuya. “Painting, redecorating, moving the furniture.”  
  
“If we actually do it,” says Atsushi.  
  
“We’re going to,” says Taiga.  
  
And honestly, the more he thinks about it the better it sounds. Square footage, a yard, a space that started out as Atsushi’s but not in the way this apartment was Taiga’s, not crammed with his stuff, no dust gathering only in the corners where he didn’t walk, no smudges up high on the edge of the doors from where Atsushi closes them because he claims the doorknobs are too far down. Sure, it’s been occupied by a rotating cast of young adults, but the four of them can push that out and replace it with something all their own. Taiga’s looking forward to their visit.

* * *

The college kids haven’t totally wrecked the house, but they did a shit job spackling up the holes they nailed in the wall and the whole place smells faintly of weed, cheap merlot, and those cheaper scented candles that make you wonder if the furniture’s on fire. There don’t seem to be any scorch marks on the coffee tables, and none on the few pieces of bedroom furniture that are left here (all are broken, dressers missing drawers and handles or chairs with the backs hanging half-off). The master bedroom here isn’t much bigger than the one in Taiga’s apartment, but it’s right next to another decent-sized room, and if they could knock down the wall (and if they downsize during the move) they might all be able to fit there. There’s still a few other bedrooms, enough to keep up plausible deniability if required, and there’s enough space overall for all of them—enough room for large couches in the living room that Daiki can hang halfway-off when he doesn’t even have to, closets for all the crap Tatsuya refuses to get rid of, a basement where Atsushi can hide and pretend he’s not hiding even though he’s just playing games on his phone and watching the laundry spin, a back porch for barbecues (the railing is halfway off but that’s fixable in an afternoon or less).  
  
“Just what are you envisioning?” Tatsuya says, laughter in his voice.  
  
Taiga shrugs. “Space. Us.”  
  
“Sounds nice,” says Tatsuya, slipping his hand into Taiga’s.  
  
The sentiment is genuine, flooding Taiga with a sudden rush of affection; he wants to pick Tatsuya up and set him down on the counter and press their foreheads together but only after they pick better curtains.  
  
“You really like this place?” says Atsushi.  
  
He’s combing the tangles out from his hair, already completely relaxed because after all, it is his house. Daiki’s half-leaning on him, completely relaxed because he’s Daiki, and totally ready to fall asleep.  
  
“Don’t you?” says Tatsuya.  
  
Atsushi shrugs. The movement jostles Daiki, and he shuffles back over to Tatsuya, leaning over his shoulders instead. Atsushi cocks his head at the three of them before stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking over to stand next to Taiga and elbow him in the side. Were he less mature, Taiga would elbow him back and they’d get into an argument (and, okay, Taiga’s pretty sure there are a lot of less-mature moments ahead of them).  
  
“Let’s put a court out back,” says Daiki.  
  
“No way in hell,” says Atsushi.  
  
Taiga adds it to his mental list anyway.  
  
“Don’t even think about it,” says Atsushi.  
  
Taiga slides his arm around Atsushi’s waist; Tatsuya laughs quietly to himself, somehow not managing to bother Daiki, who has now decided to start describing how the fiberglass backboards on the court are going to be as clear as a glass of mineral water until it gets scuffed and then it’ll be kind of like the smoggy sky under the mountains. Yeah, they’ll have no problem living here.


End file.
